


the barista and the curmudgeon

by skeletondragon



Series: sambucky coffeeshop au [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletondragon/pseuds/skeletondragon
Summary: Sam Wilson works in a coffee shop, Bucky Barnes is a caffeine-deprived grump, and Riley and Nat are along for the ride.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, Riley & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Series: sambucky coffeeshop au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685614
Comments: 9
Kudos: 111





	the barista and the curmudgeon

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea that Bucky would be into those ridiculous sugary concoctions that are one part coffee to three parts sugar.

Sam Wilson liked being a barista. Sure, it wasn’t his dream job, but it paid the bills in between courses for his master’s degree. The work itself was pretty mundane – take orders, make drinks, clean the shop, talk with the customers. Sam was an easygoing guy, enjoyed talking with people as they came through. He even made a game of it, guessing what sort of drink newcomers would go for.

After a while, he became familiar with some of the regular faces. The shop attracted a motley crew of customers – college students looking for some caffeine to help them survive their unending list of projects and papers, harried parents who needed a shot of java to get through another day of getting their hair pulled by their toddlers, old women getting cups of tea to sit with and socialize. Sam liked the variety, talking to people from all walks of life. Even better, he’d become good friends with Riley and Natasha, his co-workers on most of his shifts.

Not to say that the work was perfect – he had dealt with enough irate customers and espresso machine malfunctions to know that it wasn’t all smooth sailing, to say nothing of the days that got so busy they made him want to melt into a puddle on the floor. All in all, though, he liked his job, his co-workers, and the regulars.

* * *

It had been a busy morning, and Sam was finally able to take a minute to breathe during the afternoon lull. He and Riley took advantage of the time, chatting away as they cleaned up the counter and refilled the espresso machines. Natasha was somewhere in the back, restocking. Their idle banter was interrupted by the sound of the bells on the door handle chiming and the door swinging open.

A man walked in and headed straight for the counter. He looked about six feet tall, with clear blue eyes and long hair tied back haphazardly into a ponytail, nondescript dark clothes cutting a nice figure. Sam would have called him hot if he didn’t look so damn grumpy.

As he came closer, Sam could see the bags under his eyes and the lack of energy in his gait. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. “One large mocha, extra shot of espresso, please.” the man said as soon as he reached the till. It wasn’t the order Sam was expecting. The guy looked like the kind of person who would want a black coffee and complain about any other orders being too fancy. Sam shrugged to himself, but didn’t say anything. _Can’t get them all right. At least he said please._ Whatever was making the poor bastard look like the walking dead, at least the coffee and sugar would help.

“That’ll be four dollars, fifty cents. Refills are half-off if you’re staying.” The man tilted his head and considered it, but shook his head and reached for his wallet to pay. This time Sam shrugged so everyone could see. “Alright man, whatever you want. Can I get a name?”

“Bucky”.

Sam started to scribble down the name on a cup, but paused. “What’s that now?”

“Bucky. Middle name’s Buchanan, but that’s a bit of a mouthful,” the new guy said by way of explanation, his words clipped.

“Alright, Bucky it is. I’ll call it out when it’s ready.” The man nodded and went to sit down on a nearby table, looking like he might keel over any minute.

“Mocha for Bucky?” Sam called out a few minutes later. Not that he needed to, since there were only a few more people in the shop, but he liked the sound of the man’s name. _Bucky. Buck-y. That’s a new one._ The man got up to the counter, grabbed his coffee, said a quiet thank you and left the shop without another word, looking just as dog-tired as when he walked in. Sam looked back to Riley and made a face. _Whatever. The man might be grumpy but at least he had some manners._

* * *

The thing was, after that first day, it seemed like Sam couldn’t stop running into Bucky. He would come into the shop, brow furrowed, bags under his eyes, mouth turned down in a frown and order some ungodly sugary drink with a quiet please and thank you. It was never the same drink, either – some days it was a mocha, other days a flavored latte, and every so often he picked a special drink from the list Riley had made on the board. As long as it had sugar and caffeine, it sufficed. Sometimes he just took the coffee and headed out the door, but as the days went on he stuck around more often, sitting at a table and reading the newspaper or a book with Cyrillic script. After seeing his reading, Natasha had started coming over and speaking with him in Russian on her breaks. Sam had asked what they talked about, but she simply smiled at him and refused to answer.

Eventually, Sam started considering him one of the regulars. There was MJ, a high school student who always had some stack of books around her, Mrs. Parker, an attractive middle-aged lady who always got a bagel with her coffee, and now there was Bucky, the hot guy who came with a frown and a penchant for overly-sweet drinks. He was one more person to add to the bunch.

* * *

One day a month or two later, Sam missed hearing the tinkling of the bells and Bucky entering the store. He would have noticed were he not in the middle of a heated exchange with another customer. The man was new to the shop, dressed in a grey suit with an accompanying air of arrogance and didn’t seem to understand that no sir, this isn’t a Starbucks, the menu we have is the menu we have.

“Sir, I know you had a very specific drink order, and I can assure you I followed it exactly.” Sam was beginning to get exasperated. This jackass had been arguing with him about his ridiculously complicated drink order for the past seven minutes. Sam had already remade the drink once, and in the intervening time a long line had formed behind him.

“No, I don’t think _you_ understand. I have this same order every time I go out for coffee. I know exactly what it tastes like. You must have left out some ingredient, again.” The man started raising his voice and pointing a finger right in Sam’s face.

Sam was about to retort with something that would probably get him fired when Bucky bypassed the line and stepped up to the counter.

“Hey man, if he said he’s made the drink right, he made the drink right. Either pay for your damn drink or get the fuck out of the store, you’re holding up the line.” He didn’t raise his voice, but he didn’t need to. The low tone and underlying viciousness made Sam glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of it.

The man turned around to start yelling at Bucky, only to be faced with a six-foot, glowering, clearly caffeine-deprived and irritated man. He looked at Bucky, then at the line, and then at Sam. “Alright, whatever, lose my business why don’t you,” the man huffed, before stomping out of the shop. A teenager sitting at a booth let out a whoop, and an older lady in line patted Bucky on the shoulder.

Riley called out from behind Sam, “Hey, thanks for dealing with that asshole. Your drink’s on the house.” Bucky glanced over at Sam, gave an almost imperceptibly small smile, and stepped back into line behind the old woman and her friend.

Later on, once Bucky had gotten his drink and went to sit in a corner table, Natasha lightly punched Sam on the shoulder. “Look who’s got his own personal knight in shining armor!” she said, not bothering to lower her voice. Sam had waved off the comment, but grinned as Bucky chuckled to himself, eyes not leaving the page he was reading.

* * *

After the encounter with the ridiculous customer, Sam found himself, if not exactly friends with Bucky, then at least on better terms with him.

Every so often, when Sam had a break and Bucky was sitting in the shop, he would join his table and talk with him. The conversations had started with whatever Bucky was reading at the time – it turned out he was a fan of Solzhenitsyn and wanted to keep up with his Russian– but had eventually meandered into talking about the news, their opinions, and their lives.

Sam learned that Bucky was an old man trapped in a young man’s body – if not quite literally, then at least in some of the more important ways. He didn’t have any social media (“I don’t understand it and I don’t want to”), had three cats of varying sizes and ages, and preferred most things analog over digital. Bucky also explained his work as a physical therapist. _Guess it makes sense why he’s so built_ , not that Sam had been paying attention to his muscles _._ Sam also learned about his friend Steve, who seemed like maybe the only friend Bucky had, or at least the only one he mentioned with regularity. Bucky said they’d grown up together, and his eyes lit up an even brighter blue whenever he talked about him. It was endearing, seeing how much he loved the guy.

Sam, in turn, told Bucky all about what he liked doing – running and birdwatching, mostly, but he was also really getting into the finer points of making bread. He talked about the degree he was working on. He hoped to eventually work at the VA as a psychotherapist so he could help the veterans deal with their mental health needs. “You should go there too,” he joked, “You help their bodies and I’ll help their brains”. Bucky had smiled at the remark, and Sam felt some odd sense of accomplishment at the movement.

* * *

It was nice seeing the ice block of a guy softening up. He was still a bit rough around the edges, and they didn’t meet up outside of the shop or anything, but Sam started to look forward to the time he could spend chatting with Bucky.

Another afternoon, Sam decided to inquire about his choice in coffee. “So man, I gotta ask. If you’re a physical therapist, why’re you drinking all the sweet stuff?” he said as he pulled out a chair and sat down next to Bucky. “I mean, I think they’re okay, but they’re not the healthiest thing ever, so color me surprised. It’s not really what I expected.”

“Did you think I’d be a black coffee guy?” Bucky asked, setting down his book, bemusement lacing his voice.

“To be honest, man, yeah, I did. The first time you walked in here you looked like you were about to drop dead, and not to be all stereotypical but guys that look like you usually shun the frou-frou drinks.”

Bucky laughed at that, throwing back his head and exposing the full line of his neck. When he came back to look at Sam, his eyes were still crinkled at the edges with amusement. “Nah, I used to drink black coffee until I realized that life is short and there were a lot better options out there. If I’m going to spend money on my caffeine, I’d rather not pay to drink water that tastes like dirt. Plus, a man’s gotta have some vices, so I figured this might as well be mine.”

Just as Sam was about to reply, Riley called out to him. “Hey Sam, I need you to help me with these boxes, get back here”. Sam looked down at his watch and saw that his break time was just about up. He got up from the table, waved an awkward goodbye to Bucky, and headed back behind the counter. Bucky waved back and kept eye contact with him for a beat or two before picking up his book and carefully thumbing to the page he had been reading.

* * *

It was another terribly hectic day. Sam wasn’t sure what caused it – it was around the time for finals, so the shop had its usual influx of high school and college students, so they had been expecting some increased traffic. What he and Riley were not expecting was for everyone and their dog to need more caffeine that morning. To make matters worse, Natasha had gotten sick with the flu, so they were a man down. The two of them had been running around nonstop, manning the cash register, making drinks, calling out orders and trying to make sure everything stayed relatively clean in the meantime. It was taking everything they had to keep things running, and after several hours of nonstop rush Sam was about ready to collapse.

It was in the midst of this madness that Bucky came through the door. Sam was glad to see him, not least because Bucky was usually fairly efficient at ordering his drink, paying, and getting out of line. Today, however, Bucky decided to throw him a curveball.

“What would you recommend?” he asked as he came to the register, surveying the menu as though he hadn’t seen it two dozen times before.

“Uh, I don’t know man.” Sam was too tired to think through any banter. “I like the plain light roasts myself but I know you’re more of a sugar fiend. Maybe the caramel macchiato?”

“Alright, I’ll take one medium caramel macchiato and one large light roast.”

Riley made the drinks, and as Sam went to hand them to Bucky, Bucky slid the light roast back to him. After so many hours of running on drink-making autopilot, Sam was nonplussed by the action and automatically replied. “Do you need a cup holder or something?”

Bucky looked him straight in the eyes, gave him another one of his small smiles. “No, that’s for you. You look like you’re about to pass out. I figured the caffeine might help keep you on your feet.” To emphasize his point, he pushed the coffee towards Sam again.

Sam was too tired to question the generosity and decided to not look a coffee horse in the mouth. “Thanks, man, I appreciate it.” As he went to pick up the cup, their fingers momentarily brushed against one another. A flush bloomed in Sam’s chest and rose into his neck. He knew his skin was dark enough that Bucky might not see the change, but he was radiating enough heat that he might’ve felt it. Bucky picked up his own drink, winked at Sam, and turned to leave. Sam simply stared after him for a moment before turning to the next customer, half of his brain listening to the person’s order while the rest of it went haywire trying to figure out what had just happened.

As Bucky exited the shop, Riley chimed in. “Hey, wait a minute, he didn’t pay for me!”

* * *

After that stunt, Sam had to admit that, yeah, fine, he might have a bit of a crush on Bucky. Sue him, the man had brilliant blue eyes and was polite and fun to talk to and not nearly as much of a curmudgeon as he first appeared. Plus, he bought him coffee on the days when he was looking particularly frazzled. And he looked fine as hell to boot. _Not my fault the guy works out and has the biceps to prove it._

So yes, Sam flirted with Bucky whenever he came in to order another drink. He wrote little smiley faces next to Bucky’s name on his cup, laughed at his lame jokes, even put his hand on his arm a time or two. Sam knew how to be a charming guy when he wanted to be.

The problem was, Sam couldn’t tell if Bucky was flirting back. Sure, some days Sam swore he caught Bucky’s eyes tracing over his forearms, and the man had a habit of leaning in close whenever their discussions got particularly animated. He had started to crack smiles more easily, too, eyes filling with a warmth Sam could feel in the pit of his stomach. But maybe they were just becoming good acquaintances. Sam hesitated to even call them friends, since he didn’t even have the guy’s phone number and didn’t see him when he wasn’t on the job. Their corner of the shop was like its own little bubble, wonderful to be in but never extending to the world outside.

* * *

Another time, Sam and Bucky had been talking during one of his breaks – although it was really more of an argument, with Bucky advocating for the Yankees and Sam passionately disagreeing. Sam had nearly lost track of the time, but just as the timer on his phone went off to signal the end of his break, he heard Natasha call out to him from the back. “Sam, get back here, the espresso machine’s acting up again.” Then she called out to Bucky in Russian, “ _Khvatit zaigryvat’s nim, vemu nuzhno rabotat!_ ”As soon as he heard it, Bucky’s face turned a bright red and he straightened in his chair from where he had been leaning in close. It was, in Sam’s humble opinion, the cutest look he’d ever seen. He looked between Bucky and Natasha, but he couldn’t tell what had passed between the two. _I gotta start Duolingo or something, this is ridiculous_.

When Sam got back to the counter, he asked Natasha what she had said, but as always she refused to answer. She simply laughed to herself and at Bucky, who was glowering at her across the tops of the tables, face contorted with indignation. He and Riley looked at each other, and Riley shrugged his shoulders. _Whatever, if Natasha wants to have her secrets, not like I can force her to tell_ , he thought, though his curiosity at her words and Bucky’s reaction gnawed at him for the rest of his shift.

* * *

“I honestly can’t tell if he’s flirting with me or not,” he lamented to Riley as he wiped down the additions station and refilled a jug with half and half as they opened up the shop one Thursday morning. “Maybe he’s just like that with everyone.” By this point, Riley had caught on to what was going on, since Sam wasn’t being particularly subtle about it, but Sam had felt the need to fill him in anyways.

Riley took the whole thing in stride. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve been out of the dating game for so long I’ve kinda forgotten what it was like,” he said with a shrug. “I can tell you that whenever he comes in and you’re not here, he’s a lot more closed off. I mean, he’s polite with me, but we’re not getting into long conversations about Tolstoy or whoever it is he’s always reading, you know?”

Sam was heartened to hear that Bucky wasn’t that friendly to everyone. Not that he wanted Bucky to be a grump all the time, but it made Sam feel a bit special. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s Dostoevsky now, though, not Tolstoy.”

“Whatever, you know I’m more of a movie guy, all those authors run together for me. You should figure the situation out, though, because if I have to sit through another three weeks of you moaning on about the guy I’m going to ask him out for myself and save us all the trouble.” Sam threw his dishcloth at Riley’s head, but he just laughed as missed him and landed on the register.

* * *

Several weeks of flirting and increasingly unsubtle ribbing from both Riley and Natasha later, Sam had made up his mind. The next time Bucky walked through those doors, he was going to man up and give him his number, potential rejection be damned.

The next time Bucky walked into the shop, however, he was already occupied. It was a slow day, and Sam’s eyes darted to the door when he heard the chiming of the bells on the handle. By Bucky’s side, one arm thrown over his shoulders, was the most stereotypically All-American looking man Sam had ever seen – tall, blond hair, blue eyes, muscles standing out in a t-shirt that looked half a size too small on him. As Sam took in the new guy, he looked over to Bucky to see him smiling and laughing.

Sam liked to think he wasn’t a moron. Between the boisterousness of the blonde guy and Bucky’s unusually open expression, he pretty quickly pieced together who he was. “Is this the Steve you like talking about so much?” he asked as the two of them approached the counter.

“Yep, that would be me. Steve Rogers, pleased to meet you.” The man stuck out his hand for a handshake, and firmly grasped Sam’s hand. Sam couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. The man was a walking ball of sunshine. “Buck’s been telling me about this place for awhile and I wanted to see where he’s been disappearing off to.”

Sam looked over to Bucky, one eyebrow raised. He merely shrugged in response. “I told him I liked the drinks here. We were in the neighborhood and he wanted to check it out.”

Sam tried and failed to tamp down on his widening smile. “Glad to see that news of my espresso-pulling skills are spreading.” He heard Riley object in the background that hey, he had made at least half of those drinks, and turned to Bucky. “Alright, what can I get you two?”

“I’ll take the café miel, haven’t seen that one before.”

“I know I’ve said it a thousand times, but you must have some sort of superpower to put up with all that sugar.”

“Yeah, well, you know me.” Bucky grinned, teeth flashing straight and white. “Always chasing that next sugar high.”

Steven looked between the two of them, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know, Buck, my ma did always said you were a sweetie.” Bucky rolled his eyes, unable to fight the light flush dusting his cheekbones. Turning to Sam, Steve said, “I’ll take a cold brew. I don’t really go for the sweet stuff.”

“Man after my own heart. I’d recommend the nitro cold brew, but that’s mostly because we just got it and I want to try it out.”

Steve considered it and grinned. “Hell, sure, why not? I’ll be the guinea pig.”

_Steve’s a good guy,_ Sam thought, but he could have guessed that from all the tales he had heard from Bucky. Sam made the two of them their drinks and they went to sit down near Bucky’s regular table near the windows. Sam wanted to join them, but he had already taken his break and a crowd of college students had just walked through the door. He and Natasha busied themselves taking orders and filling cups, his eyes darting to the two of them every few minutes. He couldn’t hear what they were saying over the din of the espresso machine and the chatter of the students, but he could read body language well enough. Steve was the kind of guy whose enthusiasm flowed off him in waves when he spoke, and Bucky’s demeanor was more relaxed than it usually was. The two of them went back and forth, with Bucky playfully rolling his eyes at some remark Steve had made.

Sam felt a pang of jealousy unexpectedly strike him as he watched the pair, and his expression fell as he realized. _Oh, so that’s how it is._

* * *

“Oh my god, I knew I didn’t have a chance,” Sam groaned to Riley as soon as Bucky and Steve were out the door. When he didn’t hear Riley reply, he glanced up at him only to see his friend looking at him at him with an expression of complete disbelief.

Riley crossed his arms and let out a long-suffering sigh towards the ceiling. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam eyes widened, filled almost ludicrously with despair. “Holy shit, Sam, I thought you were a smart guy, getting that master’s and all. Are you seriously this dumb?”

“I just struck out before I even got up to bat, let me wallow in it for awhile.”

Riley sighed again and wiped at his eyes with both of his hands. He turned to Natasha and gestured between her and Sam. “You talk to him, I can’t or I’m going to literally smack some sense into him.”

Sam was not in the mood to be poked fun at. “Talk to me about what?”

“Sam,” Natasha started, walking over and lightly touching his arm, “You know you didn’t strike out, right? Bucky’s still clearly into you.”

“And how the hell can you tell that? You saw him just now, the man took like three months to crack a smile with me, and he’s all sunshine and giggles with Steve over there. I mean, I get it, the dude was hot, I’d be into him too if I didn’t just spend the past few months mooning over that grumpy fucker.”

Natasha laughed at that. “Yeah, yeah, I thought he was hot too. Stop trying to get off topic. Bucky likes you, and he’s been flirting with you for who knows how long,” she said, tone still uncharacteristically gentle. “Did you know that when I first started talking to him, he asked about you more than anything else?”

_Huh?_ In fact, Sam did not know that particular bit of information. Even so, it didn’t really change things. He thought he had a chance with Bucky, but it was clear the guy was just being friendly with him. _Man, this sucks_. He was resigned to Natasha and Riley bugging him about Bucky until he talked to him, so he decided to acquiesce rather than argue any more with his coworkers. “Alright, fine, I’ll ask him about it the next time he comes in, but I swear to God if this is just something for you guys to laugh about when I fall flat on my face, I’m going to put used coffee grounds in your shoes.” Natasha rolled her eyes at him and turned back to the beans.

* * *

Unfortunately for Sam, Bucky didn’t come into the shop for another week. When he finally did, it was an uncharacteristically dreary, drizzly day. _Well, that’s fitting_ , Sam thought sourly.

Bucky walked in, droplets of water flying off of him as he shook his hair. He pushed his hair out of his eyes as he spoke. _D_ _amn it, why is that so hot?_ “Large mocha, extra shot of espresso, please.”

Sam pushed his frustration aside and put on his best customer-service smile. “Back to the basics, huh?”

“Yeah, turns out you’re pretty decent at making them.” Bucky replied. Sam made his order, and Bucky carried it to his regular table before settling down and pulling out his novel.

Sam was second guessing himself, but he was nothing if not bold. It helped that Natasha was there to raise her eyebrows at him until he felt compelled to go over to Bucky’s table at his next break. He pulled out the chair next to Bucky but stayed silent, his words stuck in his throat. Bucky put down his book and looked over at him, eyebrows raised expectantly. Seeing his expression, Sam mentally slapped himself and began to speak.

“Hey. I’m sorry if I’ve been misinterpreting things, but I have to ask because this has been killing me for the past week. Longer than a week, really. Do you wanna go out with me? I mean, on a date?”

He said the words in a rush, couldn’t look at Bucky. Instead, he focused on the cover of the book between them. He didn’t recognize this one, must have been a new read. The cyrillic made a lovely pattern that he couldn’t understand. After a few seconds of silence, Sam peeked up to Bucky’s face.

What he saw nearly made him laugh. Bucky’s entire face was a bright red, his eyebrows lifted even higher and his eyes comically wide. The two stared at each other for a moment before Bucky managed to stutter out, “Uh, yeah, no, that’s would be great, I was wondering if you were ever going to ask.” His voice was impressively steady considering his expression.

Sam’s brain was about to fritz out from equal parts elation and adrenaline, but he kept his voice as poised as he could. “Cool. How about tomorrow at seven? I can text you to figure out the details. I should probably get your number now anyway.” He could feel his words start to pick up speed, and he reached for his phone to buy time and calm down. He handed it to Bucky, nearly dropping it when their hands touched, and went back to staring at the book as Bucky punched his number in.

Bucky handed his phone back to him. The two of them looked at each other, at a complete loss for words. The silence was broken as Sam heard Natasha burst out into laughter somewhere behind him, with Riley snarking “Fucking _finally_.” Bucky put his face in his palm, as if to hide his embarrassment, and Sam stood up to get back to work. He started laughing too, perhaps out of relief, perhaps out of the anti-climax of it all. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” he called out to Bucky, grinning as he heard a strangled “Yeah!” in reply.

* * *

Sam wasn’t sure if he had on some incredibly strong rose-tinted glasses, but he thought his date with Bucky was damn near perfect. They had gone to a little hole-in-the-wall Korean restaurant that Sam loved and he got to laugh as Bucky puzzled over all the different items on the menu. Afterwards, Bucky had dragged him to a nearby ice-cream place, as if to prove how big his sweet tooth was. The two of them got their ice cream, but the summer night, still cool from the previous day’s rain, beckoned them outside. They walked around the neighborhood hand in hand, talking about everything and nothing.

As they turned a corner, a question struck Sam. “So, I wanted to ask you something.” Bucky quirked an eyebrow but let him continue. “Yesterday, when I asked you out, you said something like ‘I was wondering if you were ever gonna ask.’ If you were into me, why didn’t you just ask me out? Why the wait?”

Bucky sighed and looked up into the sky for a beat before looking at Sam. “Think of it from my perspective – that coffee shop’s where you work, right? You’re obligated to be nice to your customers, unless I suppose they’re being total jerks. I thought it might be creepy if I asked you out somewhere you couldn’t just say no and leave.”

“But flirting with me is okay?”

“You were flirting back!”

They continued walking around, making conversation. It wasn’t so different from everything they had talked about in the shop, but something about being outside those four walls, the cicadas chirping and the taste of the ice cream lingering on their tongues felt enchanting.

As they went to sit on nearby bench, Sam decided to tell Bucky about his misunderstanding with Steve. After he told him, Bucky threw back his head and laughed for a solid few minutes. Sam would have been annoyed at being laughed at if he didn’t feel that familiar sense of achievement from making Bucky smile. _It helps that he looks so good_ , Sam though, admiring the lines of Bucky’s face as it was filled with mirth.

Wiping away a tear from his eye, Bucky said, “You seriously thought I was into Stevie?”

“Hey! It took me like four months to get a smile out of you and then you waltz in with the human version of a golden retriever all goofy and laughing, what else was I supposed to assume?”

“I spent months buying you drinks and flirting with you over that countertop and I can’t believe it nearly got wrecked by coming in with my best friend.” Bucky shook his head and chuckled to himself. “The human version of a golden retriever, though, I like that. You’re not wrong.”

Sam didn’t say anything, content just to sit in the silence of the moment. Bucky looked over at him, eyes darting from his eyes to his cheeks to his lips. A small smile played over Bucky’s mouth, the light of the street lamps casting an amber glow on his face. Sam admired the image before pushing any misgivings aside and coming close to Bucky. He leaned in slowly, the daring from earlier in the evening lessened by his nerves. He paused for a moment before their lips touched, staring at Bucky’s eyes from a few millimeters away. They seemed somehow impossibly brighter. Sam wasn’t sure if he saw or felt Bucky’s faint nod, but he moved against him, pushing his lips along Bucky’s. It was a quick kiss, flavored with the mint Bucky had earlier. Sam pulled back to gauge Bucky’s reaction, and Bucky grinned before pushing into Sam’s space. He caught Sam’s lips with his own, his body shifting to press along Sam’s, to get as close as he could.

The two of them stayed that way for some time, going back and forth, before Sam broke away. He held Bucky’s head in his hands and flashed him an exuberant smile. “Oh man, this was worth it, this was so totally worth it,” the words spilling forth. Bucky stayed silent, choosing instead to rest his head along the crook of Sam’s shoulder and nod in agreement.

* * *

Sam Wilson really liked being a barista. It wasn’t his dream job, but it paid the bills and was fun to boot. He enjoyed chatting with the regulars about their lives, catching up with the students and older people alike as they drank their tea and coffee. He talked with Natasha and Riley as they wiped down counters and refilled beans about whatever new movie Riley had seen or whatever Natasha was up to with her life. And most days, like clockwork, he would hear the tinkling of the bells on the door handle and look up to see his boyfriend stroll through the door, book in hand. He would waltz up to the counter and say hello to Natasha and Riley before giving Sam a quick kiss on the lips. Sam would make whatever indecently sweet drink Bucky wanted that day and join him at his table if he had a spare minute. They settled into the pattern quite quickly – it wasn’t so different from what they had been doing for months, Sam mused – and despite the regularity, it never failed to make Sam’s chest fill with warmth.

It wasn’t as though his job was perfect – he still dealt with irritated, entitled jerks on the regular, espresso machine malfunctions and disastrous days when nothing seemed to go correctly. Even on some good days, he was so busy that he felt like collapsing onto his bed at home for a nap and never waking up.

Still, between the regulars, his co-workers, and his boyfriend, Sam thought his little world in the coffee shop was pretty alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Khvatit zaigryvat’s nim, vemu nuzhno rabotat! = Stop flirting with him, he needs to work!  
> (Per Google Translate, please let me know if that's horribly wrong!)


End file.
